


Hank McCoy X Reader – Schrodinger’s Mutant

by writeyouin



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men (Original Timeline Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Meetings, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 01:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14273733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeyouin/pseuds/writeyouin
Summary: As the first human to survive illegal scientific experimentation to see if mutations can be forced, you must live with the fear of what exactly you could become. Beast meets you shortly after you're rescued by the X-Men, and his perspective is a comfort to you.Requested use of Kelsey Grammer's Beast.





	Hank McCoy X Reader – Schrodinger’s Mutant

As a human hired to research mutant affairs worldwide, you’d heard of  _Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters_. However, you never pictured yourself sitting, battered and bruised, in the mansion’s kitchen at midnight, wondering what your life would become.

Even in the dark of the night the injuries you’d sustained were clear and numerous, bruises that covered your body, burns where you’d been electrocuted, lacerations mended with sloppy stitches where your captors had gone too far and attempted to fix their mistakes; some of the wounds would never heal though most of those ones were mental.

The kitchen light turned on, making you freeze in fear; the last time lights came on suddenly usually meant another round of torture. When the initial fear passed and reasoning set in, you glanced to the kitchen door, and saw a large, furry, blue mutant in black silk pyjamas.

“Hello,” You greeted cautiously; you didn’t fear him, in your line of work you’d grown accustomed to the many unusual appearances of mutants.

Hank studied you, responding politely, “Good evening.”

There was a pause while the two of you assessed each other. Charles had warned Hank of your arrival and the unfortunate circumstances under which you’d suffered. You were an experiment of mutant enthusiasts who were attempting to see if mutations could be forced upon regular people; it was still unclear whether you would remain  _Homo sapien_ or become  _Homo sapien superior._

When neither of you seemed hostile towards the other, you both visibly relaxed.

“May I join you?” Hank asked.

You gestured to the stool opposite yours at the breakfast bar.

“Thank you…” he hesitated, waiting for your name; Charles had failed to tell him earlier.

“(Y/N),” You answered.

“(Y/N). I’m Henry McCoy, or Hank if you’d prefer. Coffee?”

You nodded as your mind spun, “You’re the head of mutant affairs.”

Hank prepared two mugs, “I was.”

“Do you know what happened to me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know whether I’ll be a mutant?”

“Unfortunately, I do not. Only time will tell.”

You sniffled, wiping tears away as they fell to no avail. Overwhelming possibilities of the future were setting in. Hank wasn’t surprised by your reaction; most people viewed mutants as undesirable, why should you be any different?

Awkwardly, Hank placed a coffee in front of you and sat down, “It’s not so bad you know. Being a mutant.”

“I don’t care about being a mutant,” You gurgled, “I care about the ripple effect afterwards.”

“Explain.”

“If I become a mutant then those- those- TERRORISTS- They’ll think they’ve won. How many more will they torture if it works? On top of that, I don’t know what type of mutant I’ll become, most people have their whole childhood to learn what they are. I could hurt people because I don’t know what I’ll be. I hate not knowing if I even will be- It’s like Schrodinger’s cat. And who…  _who…_ ” Your voice cracked as you became irater.

“I could be the first created mutant. People will hate me because they’re ignorant. Mutants will hate me because I’m not natural. I don’t want to be alone.”

Your outburst gave Hank a lot to think about. He’d expected the typical uneducated responses he’d become accustomed to as the head of mutant affairs, but you’d clearly put a lot of thought into the world around you; in short, he was fascinated.

After a while, he spoke again, “You underestimate us. Mutants have seen the wrath ignorance creates, it’s not likely that you’ll be kicked to the curb so harshly. You won’t be alone, there will always be those of us who accept you, welcome you even.”

You wanted to yell, instead what came out was little more than an angry whisper, “Like who?”

“Well, me, for a start,” Hank answered passionately. He cleared his throat, regaining his composure and staring into his coffee causing his glasses to steam up.

Hesitantly, you reached over the counter and patted his hand, holding onto it afterwards with a weak smile, “Thank you.”

Hank swallowed, “Anyway, what are you doing up at such a late hour?”

You pulled away coldly, “Couldn’t sleep.”

Hank growled lowly, he knew little of the forced mutation process other than it involved extreme torture. It was no wonder your eyes held such a haunted look. He wished, for the first time, that he’d been on the rescue team to bring the offenders to justice.

“…I see.”

“What about you? Why are you up?”

Hank knew the question was an attempt to change the subject, but he answered anyway, taking focus off your suffering, “Work waits for no man.”

“‘ _We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep._ ’”

“Shakespeare’s Tempest, very impressive, though to quote the wise bard to tell me to sleep seems very hypocritical of you, does it not?”

“Perhaps, but he’s right, you shouldn’t prioritise work over sleep; the wisest minds cannot work without rest.”

“Right now, my only priority is in a delightful evening with you,” he reached out, taking your hand back.

“Good, if I am going to change into a mutant, I wouldn’t want to do it alone.”


End file.
